


Every Year

by honeycombkiss



Series: among our every day life [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Happy 99th Birthday Steve Rogers!!!, M/M, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, SO MUCH FLUFF, five times thing, or anything past that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-23 00:18:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11391414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeycombkiss/pseuds/honeycombkiss
Summary: They haven’t celebrated Steve’s birthday this century. Steve had been afraid of what fireworks would be like for Bucky, or what social pressures might make Bucky fret. The day had passed like any other. Which is to say, they spent the day side-by-side. Which is to say, Steve was indescribably happy. It was more than he deserved; more than he ever hoped for. It was more than enough.// or: Bucky loves Steve, and July 4th is a wonderful day.





	Every Year

12

At precisely twelve-o’clock-noon there’s a knock at the door. Steve can’t help but rush to pull it open. The lock sticks like it always does, and the door squeaks loudly, but once it’s open, Steve’s looking up into his best friends eyes.

“Right on time.” Steve tells him.

“I said I would be,” Bucky says, a smirk spreading at his lips.

“You say a lot of things,”

“Sure, okay,” Bucky walks into the apartment, turning to fix Steve with a teasing look. “And here I thought we were going down to Dream Cream.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Come on, we’re gonna miss it!”

“Yeah, yeah, come on then,”

 

Together, the pair rush down the streets of Brooklyn. The streets smell like barbecue, and sweat. The summer sun beats down on their backs. Bucky tells him about his morning, about how Ruth had lost his favorite baseball. And how they’d found it in her dresser drawer. Steve tells him about the great program on the radio the night before.

Excitement fills the air as they approach their destination. The line stretches across a whole block.

“Ah man, I knew it,” Steve grumbles. “Should’ve come earlier,”

“Relax,” Bucky tells him. “Y’know they won’t start without us, it’s tradition.” Steve rolls his eyes when Bucky smirks at him.

“Yeah, sure,”

 

Brooklyn’s very own ‘Dream Cream’ ice cream truck offered free ice cream cones on the Fourth of July, and had for several years. Children from across the city gathered around. Steve and Bucky had attended for years. This year they’d finally been able to break away from their parents, and go alone. Steve told Bucky he really didn’t mind his sisters, but Bucky didn’t want to babysit on such a special day.

“I still can’t believe they give out free ice cream just for your birthday, Stevie,” Bucky said, his face the perfect look of innocence. “You’re so lucky.”

“Awe, come on, Buck, you say that every year.”

“It’s ‘cause it’s true!”

“Y’know, sometimes I think you really might not be as smart as you think you are,” Steve tells him. “If you can’t even remember our nation’s most important day.”

“Who cares?” Bucky teases. “It’s my best pals birthday,”

“Sure,” Steve says, but Bucky cuts him off.

“Furthermore, I aced my history test!”

“I know, you won’t let me forget.” Steve grumbles.

“Awh, come on, pal, last year’s grades don’t matter anyway,” Bucky says. “What matters right now, is whether you’re choosing chocolate, vanilla, or strawberry.”

“I choose the same flavor every year,” Steve starts.

“Vanilla,” Bucky finishes. “I think I’m going for chocolate this year.”

“What about sprinkles?” Steve asks.

“Of course I’m getting sprinkles! Who do you think I am?!” Steve giggles.

“I don’t know, Buck,” Steve bumps his shoulder into Bucky’s arm. “Some jerk who likes sprinkles, I guess.”

“Hey!” Bucky exclaims, and Steve breaks out in laughter.

“You asked,” Steve snorts. “I had to tell you!”

“Sure you did,” Bucky pretends to pout. “I can’t help what I like.”

“Sorry, Buck,” Steve’s still chuckling. “I guess sprinkles aren’t terrible, and you’re not half bad either.” At that, Bucky laughs, too.

Bucky is loud, and happy, and always making a joke. Bucky is kind, and thoughtful, and the best friend Steve has ever had. Steve is quick on his feet, jumping fist-first into fights. Bucky is quick witted, able to jump in and save Steve; every single time. Together, Steve believes, they’re unstoppable.

 

With a vanilla cone and a chocolate cone in hand, the pair wander the city. It’s at least a hundred degrees, and the cones are gone in minutes. They continue their walk, though, not a care in the world. It’s easy and familiar. They elbow each other, point out interesting things, and trip over uneven sidewalks. Bucky’s a head-and-a-half taller than Steve, but Steve is full of energy. They leap over cracks in the sidewalk, and chase a stray dog down the block. Steve is light on his feet, and Bucky is happy to see his friend healthy.

 

Somewhere along their walk, they decide it’s time to head back. Steve’s mother had promised to bake potatoes for dinner, and a pie for dessert. Steve had been thinking about it all day. They walk back to the apartment together. They race around corners, and hop across crosswalks.

Once they’re finally back at the Rogers’, knocking on the door loudly, Steve nudges Bucky in the side.

“Wanna sleep over tonight?” Steve asks, and Bucky turns to smile at him.

“I’d love to, pal.” And then he laughs. “Oh, and, uh, I don’t think I ever said it. So, Happy Birthday, Stevie,” Steve breaks into laughter.

“See, you are a jerk!”

 

14

“Come on, you have to enter!” Ruth’s face was the perfect picture of sweetness. She had her hands clasped at her chest, pleading. “What if you win?!”

“We’re not going to win, Ruthie,” Bucky told her, patting her head. “And we’re not going to enter.”

“Awh, come on,” Becca chimed in. “Steve’s finally old enough!”

“Yeah!” Ruth exclaimed, this time turning to Steve. “You’ve always said you wanted to!”

“It does sound like fun,” Steve conceded, glancing over at the sign-up sheet.

“Steve, it costs a dollar to join!” Bucky turned on him.

“We’ll all pitch in!” Becca reached for her little purse, already prying open the clasp. Steve, too, began digging through his pockets.

“If you really want to, Steve,” Bucky sighed. “I guess it could be fun.”

“Wahoo!” Ruth exclaimed, Becca cheering beside her.

“This is why I said we shouldn’t bring them,” Bucky told Steve teasingly, gesturing towards his two little sisters. “They’re nothin’ but trouble.”

“Hey!” Becca crossed her arms. “We wanted to be here for Steve’s birthday, too!”

“Yeah, we’re older now, too!” Ruth added.

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Bucky grumbled. “Come on, then, let’s sign-up,”

The sisters squealed excitedly, while Bucky and Steve walked away. They had all heard about the annual Nathan’s hot dog eating contest at Coney Island. Everyone loved to boast about how many hot dogs they’d eaten, or how many their uncle or father or big brother had eaten. Steve could hardly wait to see how many they’d be able to eat.

“How about we join as a team,” Bucky mumbled, jotting his name down messily.

“You’re afraid of losing?” Steve teased.

“No, but there are some big guys over there.” Bucky pointed to the tables where people were already gathering. There were platters stacked with hot dogs, piles and piles of them. Everyone looked eager to begin. There was even a crowd beginning to form, and the Barnes sisters’ stood towards the front.

“It doesn’t matter,” Steve said, rubbing his palms against his shirt. “You eat more than anyone I know. And anyway, if you’re a team, you gotta eat more than everybody else.”

“Not that much,” Bucky protested, before walking towards an open spot at the table. “And there’s no way I eat more than these guys.”

“We’ll see, I guess,” Steve shrugged. “The prize is a new radio.”

“Are you serious?” Bucky flipped around, eyes searching for the prize table. “Whoa.”

“So, one of us has got to win.” Steve said.

“Yeah, yeah, okay.”

 

Within minutes, the contest was starting. Before Steve could process what was happening, the bell had been rung, and the race had begun. The man in front of him had already shoved two into his mouth, before Steve had taken his first bite. Beside him, he felt Bucky reaching for his second. The crowd was closing in on them, and within seconds, both Ruth and Becca were cheering in his ear. Around him, the other participants shoved down hot dog after hot dog. Steve, being very competitive, and willing to do anything to win, took two bites of a hot dog, before handing it behind him to Becca.

“Steve?!” Becca whispered loudly into his ear. “What’re you doing?”

“Just go along with it,” he mumbled. “Eat. We’re a team now.”

Steve grabbed another three hot dogs; two for himself, and one for Becca.

“Steve, I’m not done yet!” She had squeezed in beside him, and was chewing as fast as she could manage. It really was comical, but Steve couldn’t waste the time to laugh.

“I’m almost done,” Steve told her. “This is my, like, fourth, I think.”

“I’ve had two,” she said, reaching for another. “I don’t know how many more I can eat.”

“Are you kidding me?!” Bucky exclaimed from Steve’s other side, but neither Becca nor Steve paid him any attention.

“Faster,” Steve told her, and she nodded enthusiastically.

“I’m trying.” Becca groaned. “It’s not that easy.”

“Come on, faster, you’ve got this!” Ruth cheered from behind them, and Steve knew they weren’t going to win. The radio sitting across the long table wasn’t going to be theirs; they couldn’t eat enough hot dogs.

The contest lasted ten minutes. When the bell rung, Steve swore it hadn’t nearly been that long.

“Oh no,” Becca sighed. “I only ate five.”

“I had eight,” Steve told her, shrugging his shoulders. “That’s thirteen, between the two of us.”

“I ate ten.” Bucky said from behind the pair. “That was stupid.”

“I thought you guys looked great,” Ruth told them. “That’s more than I ever would’ve imagined.”

“It’s harder than it looks,” Becca conceded. “And it’s quite hot outside.”

“We should’ve been a team.” Bucky told Steve.

“Even then, it wouldn’t have been enough.”

“What did I try to tell you?”

“It’s fine.” Steve shook his head.

“Let’s do something else,” Becca suggested. “Steve’s birthday needs to be real special.”

“How about the Ferris Wheel?”

“Yeah, alright,” Steve agreed.

 

The four walked together across the amusement park, squeezing around the crowds of people. The Ferris Wheel stood tall above the buildings, an easy sight across the boardwalk. The wait was minimal, and the group chose a rocking gondola.

As soon as they’re seated, Bucky leans forward and back quickly. Steve sits beside him, hanging onto the seat edge. They rise slowly, waiting for each bucket to be filled. Once they’re at the very top, all three Barnes siblings sway back and forth violently. Ruth is shrieking, Becca is giggling, Bucky’s wearing a grin, and Steve feels sick. It doesn’t happen all at once. No, Steve fights the churning in his stomach for a moment, but it is quickly followed by nausea. Moments later, he cups a hand over his mouth, and then he’s leaning over the edge.

“Whoa, you okay, pal?” Bucky’s asking, and Steve can only shake his head quickly.

The rocking stops instantly, and Steve has to fight back the vomit he knows is coming. The entire gondola is quiet. Bucky places a hand on Steve’s back, rubbing slow circles. Steve focuses on the methodic rhythm.

“Gosh, sorry, Steve,” Ruth whispers. “You feeling okay?”

“Yeah, how’re you feeling?” Bucky asks softly.

“I’m okay, I think,” Steve reassures the group. “Don’t stop rocking on account of me.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

 

Once each gondola is filled, the Ferris Wheel makes two rounds. The Barnes siblings continue rock and sway, although much gentler. Steve pretends he doesn’t notice, but lets it pass since they’re just trying to be nice on his birthday.

It isn’t until they’re nearing the end of the second round when Steve’s stomach resumes its violent churning. The gondola reaches the loading bay, the doors fling open, and Steve jumps out as quickly as he can. He barely makes it to the trash can, before he empties his stomach of eight Nathan’s hot dogs.

“Steve!”

Bucky, Becca and Ruth gather around him. He’s completely embarrassed. Although, he feels instantly better. He wipes his arm across his face, and gives a sheepish grin.

“Too many hot dogs,” Steve says with a shrug.

“I’m so sorry!” Becca exclaims. “It was all my idea, and-”

“Hey,” Steve cuts her off. “It’s okay, I promise.”

“Oh god,” Becca puts her face in her hands. “I really am so sorry!”

“They do not taste as good the second time,” Steve says to Bucky. Bucky bursts into laughter, doubling over. “I’m serious!” Steve insists.

 

They agree to ride the Cyclone next, while Steve sits and watches. He is more than happy to sit on the bench closest to the trash can, a Coca Cola in hand. Bucky had charmed the middle-aged woman to give it to Steve for free, since it was his birthday. It helped to settle his stomach.

Steve caught glimpses of the Barnes’ as they whipped up and down the boardwalk. Everyone aboard the cart shouted and screamed. Although, Steve was sure he heard them scream his name, followed by a chorus of happy birthday. It seemed like the kind of thing they would do.

It was easy to spot them walking through the exit. Ruth was jumping in excitement, Becca had an arm held against her stomach, and Bucky was walking funny.

“How was it?” Steve called from his seat.

“Great,” Bucky called back, although he didn’t look as if he meant it.

“Yeah, it was just-” Becca began, but was unable to finish. She bent in half, and vomited right onto the pavement, inches away from her shoes. Ruth shrieked, and Bucky looked away quickly, before leaning over a planter, and vomiting as well.

Ruth looked both disgusted and amused. She skipped over to Steve’s side, looking away and hiding a snicker. Becca didn’t move an inch. Bucky stood up, and walked away in embarrassment. He wrapped an arm around Becca’s shoulders, and lead her to the bench. Steve offered her his drink, and she sipped quietly.

“You were right, Steve,” Bucky mumbled, his cheeks a bright red. “Nathan’s hot dogs are better the first time.”

Steve and Ruth couldn’t contain their giggles.

“Some birthday, huh?” Ruth giggled.

“Definitely unforgettable.”

 

16

The balmy heat of early July isn’t lessened, even as the sun sets. The beach at Coney Island had been packed all day. Twice as packed as any other day. Holidays were like that. Together, Steve and Bucky had sat at the water’s edge, letting the water roll up and lick their ankles. Steve couldn’t swim, and the water gave him chills. Bucky was content to lay against the warm sand, sun beaming down on them. It’s summer break, and it’s the fourth of July, and it’s Steve’s sixteenth birthday.

Neither say a word, though the scene is anything but quiet. The hundreds of people lining the beach laugh, and chat, and throw balls back and forth. The waves crash, sparkling against the sand. Steve’s got his eyes shut, feeling the sun warm his pale skin. He can feel Bucky’s arm against his own, and it’s comforting. It’s happy, and lazy, and the perfect kind of birthday.

“We got pretty lucky,” Bucky says, breaking the silence. Bucky does that, unable to keep his thoughts to himself. “This close to the water on a day like this.”

“And what kind of day is that?” Steve asks.

“A hot summer one,” Bucky answers.

“A holiday,” Steve corrected. “Don’t do it, Buck.”

“ _You’re_ birthday,” Bucky says anyway, smiling and nudging Steve. Bucky spread out his arms, letting sand slip between his fingers. Steve could see sand glinting in his hair, and gathering around his body. “God, I love summer in this city,”

And Bucky really did. Sunshine, warm evenings, freedom, and long summer nights. The break from school allowed Bucky to spend afternoons down at the grocer, helping out with jobs. Bucky spent the extra money within hours. The hustle and bustle was pleasant. Something about the summer made things seem possible, and positive, and endless.

“Where do you think we should watch the fireworks from?” Bucky asks moments later. His eyes are still closed, but he looks contemplative.

“I don’t know,”

“Oh, real helpful, pal,” Bucky teases. “Great idea.”

“Well, what were you thinking?”

“Edge of the beach, right where it turns to sand.”

“Then why’d you ask?”

“Wanted to know your opinion.”

“I see.”

“Y’know, you’re lucky it’s your birthday.” Bucky propped himself up on his elbows.

“Oh yeah, or else what?”

Bucky didn’t hesitate a moment, before flinging water at Steve, who sat stunned, face dripping.

“Buck!”

“Whoops,” Steve could hear the laughter in Bucky’s voice.

As the next wave washed ashore, Steve cupped his hand and sprayed his own wave of water at Bucky. Steve heard Bucky laugh, before he was being splashed back in return. From there, it was hard to tell who was splashing who. Water flew between the two, soaking both of them. It felt great, sliding down Steve’s back, cooling him down.

“Why is it that it’s still hot, even now?” Bucky asked a moment later, splashing Steve once more. Before responding, Steve splashes back. “Hey, maybe I’m done being wet,” Steve can tell Bucky’s joking. He’s smiling, and he’s charming, and there’s not a real question in his voice.

“I’m sorry, Buck,” Steve says, though his voice says otherwise. “C’mon, let’s go find a spot before they’re all gone.”

 

The trek across the beach isn’t an easy one. They doge dance parties, throwing balls, and over excited dogs. The sun sinks below the horizon, and the lights of Coney Island come glittering on. Millions of lights come on, framing the resort in a pattern of moving joy. Each building, each attraction, and each food cart light up together. It’s one of Steve’s favorite sights; Coney Island at night. A new kind of magic fills the air.

Steve trails behind Bucky. Together they walk back and forth across the beach’s edge. Bucky talks to himself, moving from one spot to another. Steve is happy to let Bucky decide where the best spot is. It takes nearly five minutes before Bucky is content to settle down at a spot. They plop onto the sand, sitting side-by-side. Steve’s shirt was still wet, and it clings to his skin heavily. Bucky’s has got great, big water spots across the front. They’ve both got hair smoothed back from the ocean water, and pants soaked up to their knees.

“Want to play twenty questions?” Bucky asks.

“Sure,”

“Alright, have you got something?”

“Yeah,”

“Okay, is it something we both like?” Bucky asked, and Steve nodded. “Okay, is it something we do together?”

“I guess so,”

“Geez, okay. Uh, do we make it a tradition?”

“Maybe,”

“Fireworks!”

“Hey!” Steve pointed a finger at Bucky. “How’d you get that so fast?”

“Pal, there’s not many things we both like.” Steve couldn’t help but grin.

“Yeah, alright,”

The pair played another two rounds of the game, before the lights of Coney Island dimmed. An excited cheer waved through the crowd, Bucky and Steve joining in.

As the fireworks lit up the sky, Bucky leaned over and whispered, “Happy Birthday, Stevie. Look at those fireworks, just for you!”

 

Back at the Rogers’ apartment, Bucky and Steve headed back into Steve’s bedroom. While Steve settled against the headboard, Bucky instructed him to close his eyes. Steve couldn’t help but peak, watching Bucky rustle around underneath Steve’s bed. He looked hilarious, trying to fit underneath the bed frame. There was a loud bang, followed by a curse word. It happened once more, before Bucky crawled back out, a brown paper sack in hand.

“Aha!” Bucky exclaimed. “Happy Birthday!”

“You hid my own present underneath my bed?!”

“It was the perfect hiding spot!” Bucky defended. “You never thought to look there, and my sisters couldn’t get to it.”

Steve just shook his head, a smiling pulling at the corners of his lips.

“Anyway, Happy Birthday, pal.”

Bucky placed the sack in Steve’s grasps, before clasping his own hands against his side. He rung his fingers nervously, and so Steve shot him an easy smile.

“You shouldn’t have,” Steve murmured, before he’d even looked inside.

“Come on, open it,” Bucky prompted. “Let me know what you think, and be honest.”

“Of course,” Steve assured him.

Steve slipped his hand into the sack, and pulled out three newly sharpened pencils. The tips were at a perfect point, and the erasers never-before-used.

“Whoa, Buck,” Steve ran them back and forth against his hand. “These are so nice.”

“Are they the right kind?” Bucky asked nervously. “I was just guessing, but I hoped-”

“They’re great,” Steve offered his biggest smile, and he meant it. They were nicer than any pencil Steve had ever owned. “They’re amazing. Thank you, Buck,”

“It’s the least I could do,” Bucky murmured.

“Here, sit down,” Steve patted the edge of his bed. “I’ll sketch your profile.”

Bucky sat down eagerly, and Steve reached for his sketch pad.

 

19

The day had been long. Steve had spent the day down at the corner grocery store, helping out in the back room. He was a little slow, and not the friendliest, but he was good at counting inventory. He had a watery soup for dinner, and then flipped on the radio to their favorite station. Bucky wouldn’t be back from the docks for at least another hour. He’d come back sunburned, but smiling; just like he did every day. Steve didn’t know how he did it; the manual labor, the heat and sunshine. It would’ve drained the happiness right out of Steve. Although, he appreciated Bucky’s hard work, and told him nearly every night.

The sun had just finished setting, and so Steve propped open the window. There was a slight breeze to the night. The radio sang quietly. Steve picked up the book Bucky was currently reading, and settled into their arm chair. It was a science fiction; Bucky’s favorite. It wasn’t Steve’s taste, though, and it only took a couple of minutes for him to fall asleep.

 

Steve awoke to the sound of the door opening, creaking, and swinging back shut. Bucky stood in the doorway looking sheepish.

“Hey, sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” Bucky murmured sleepily, his smile warming Steve’s chest.

“How was work?” Steve asked, yawning.

“Oh, it was okay.” Bucky shrugged, and then miming Steve, “how was work?”

“Just fine.” Steve shrugged back. They stared at one another. Bucky was filthy, covered in dirt, grime, and sweat. His shirt was flung over his shoulder, his chest a bright sunburned red. His suspenders dangled behind him, swaying at his hips. His hair was slicked back, and his lips were a puffy red. Steve wanted to beckon him over, but felt slightly silly. Bucky was amazing to look at, Steve thought, shouldn’t be allowed to look like that after a day of work.

“Hey, I love this song,” Bucky said, and Steve tried to focus back on the radio. The song had changed to something slower, a tad more romantic. Steve didn’t recognize it, which wasn’t surprising; Bucky loved every song. “Dance with me?”

Bucky did this frequently. He’d beg Steve to get up with him, and whisk him around the apartment. The floorboards squeaked, but the radio sang on.

“I don’t know,” Steve protested. “I-”

“Shut up,” Bucky ordered. “Just dance with me. C’mon,”

Steve shook his head ‘no’. Bucky huffed, dropped his shirt on the ground, and strode over to where Steve was still sitting. Bucky grabbed Steve’s hand in his own, pulled him to his feet, and tugged him closer. Bucky wrapped his arm around Steve’s waist, bringing him even closer. Steve didn’t put up a fight.

Neither spoke. Steve set his palm against Bucky’s shoulder. Steve wasn’t much of a dancer, so together they swayed. Bucky lead them, prompting Steve to take steps this-way or that. Steve stops thinking, stops counting his steps, and starts listening to Bucky’s heartbeat. Everything is slower and softer.

The first song bleads into the next, and then into another. The station continues to play ballads. Bucky moves his chin, resting it atop Steve’s head. Steve’s head moves each time Bucky breathes. Steve closes his eyes, fully trusting Bucky to move them along.

“Happy Birthday, Stevie,” Bucky whispers between songs. Steve doesn’t say anything. Having Bucky here, like this, is overwhelming. It’s happy and comforting and exciting and absolutely terrifying. Within their apartment they can dance, and kiss, and be completely intimate, both emotionally and physically. It is better than Steve could’ve ever imagined.

“You’re a pain in the ass,” Bucky starts again, a laugh brewing in his chest; Steve can feel it. “you know that? God, sometimes I can’t stand you.”

“Gee, thanks, Buck,” Steve says.

“But,” Bucky accentuates the word. “I love you.”

Steve didn’t respond. He loved Bucky, with all his heart. Bucky knew that. Steve wasn’t much for romantic gestures, or whispering sweet nothings. Steve was bold, and brash, and rough around the edges. Bucky knew that. Dancing together like this was enough for Bucky to know everything Steve didn’t say.

Instead, Steve pulls back and pecks Bucky on the lips. Bucky’s smile stretches even bigger, and he squeezes Steve’s side. Bucky is romantic, charming, and endlessly kind. Gentle, too. And happy, all the time. He is Steve’s best friend.

Bucky kisses him back, softer though. His lips brush Steve’s cheekbone then, and down to his jawline. Steve is all sharp, bony edges. Bucky’s lips linger at his jaw, slowly trailing across. Bucky is incredibly tender, continuously swaying the pair.

“Y’know,” Bucky starts, and nothing has changed at all. They could be fifteen, sixteen, or here, now, on Steve’s nineteenth birthday. Bucky is unable to stop himself from talking. Bucky loves with words, and phrases, and favorite poems. Bucky loves with cliché, absolutely, hopelessly romantic expressions. Steve cannot help but love him for it. “I’m really happy. _Love sought is good, but given unsought, is better_.”

Steve smiles.

Before either can say anything more, there’s a loud boom from outside the window. Bucky’s eyes light up.

“Fireworks!” They say together, pulling away and rushing towards the window.

Bucky shoves the window open further, and they scramble through it. Within seconds they’re settling onto the fire escape, the Brooklyn skyline stretching out in front of them. Brilliant, neon colors filled the sky, reaching high above their heads. Reds, blues, greens, purples, and willowing gold’s exploded with bangs and pops.

“Damn,” Bucky muttered, eyes fixed on the show. When a large golden set popped, and the tips turned pink, Bucky shouted, “Those, those are my favorite!” Which, Steve already knew.

Bucky took Steve’s hand in his own, and hid them between their thighs. Steve inched closer.

“This is great,” Steve mumbled into Bucky’s ear.

“Yeah?” Bucky turned to smile at him, as another firework burst into the sky.

“Yeah,” Steve nodded. “Thank you.”

“Stevie, I wish I could take credit for the fireworks, but,” Bucky was teasing, his eyes alight with mirth.

“That’s not what I mean.” Steve huffed. “Just, thanks for being hard working, and nice, and,” the tips of Steve’s cheeks were flushed pink.

“It’s my pleasure,” Bucky smiled his biggest smile, and leaned down to plant an innocent kiss against Steve’s shoulder. “I just can’t believe they still do fireworks for your birthday.”

Steve groaned. “Every year,” he mumbled, although, he was smiling.

“Every year you get a little more impossible,” Bucky teased. “A little more difficult, a lot more careless, too.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve rolled his eyes. “God, Buck, can’t you stop talking long enough to enjoy the show?” Bucky broke out into laughter.

“I am enjoying the show,” Bucky defended, squeezing Steve’s hand in his own. “Believe me.”

 

99

“Happy Steve Rogers’ Day!” Bucky cheers, and Steve awakes with a start.

“Hm?!”

“I said, Happy Steve Rogers’ Day!”

“Oh,” Steve blinks several times, allowing Bucky to come into focus. He’s holding a big white box, and Steve can see donuts sitting inside.

“They’re red, white and blue,” Bucky tells him. “Very patriotic.”

“Mm,” Steve smiles sleepily, blurrily reaching for a donut. “I want-”

“Chocolate,” Bucky answered. “Yeah, I got you a few.”

“Thanks,”

Steve takes a bite, and nods appreciatively. The donut has stripes and stars, and is absolutely delicious. Steve tells Bucky so, earnestly.

“I’m glad you like it, pal,”

Once they’ve each had two, Bucky climbs back into bed with Steve. He tucks himself up against Steve’s body, and sighs contently. Steve wraps an arm around him, and closes his eyes.

They haven’t celebrated Steve’s birthday this century. Steve had been afraid of what fireworks would be like for Bucky, or what social pressures might make Bucky fret. The day had passed like any other. Which is to say, they spent the day side-by-side. Which is to say, Steve was indescribably happy. It was more than he deserved; more than he ever hoped for. It was more than enough.

The day wasn’t marked on the calendar, nor had Steve talked about it. He knew Natasha wouldn’t have said a word, neither would Sam. Tony wasn’t always the greatest person, and was forever self-absorbed, but Steve had blacklisted the topic. Bucky was a mystery this century. Steve was still trying to adjust.

 

When they both woke up again, Bucky brew coffee. They sat against the window sill, each with a steaming mug in hand. Steve told a joke, and Bucky’s face scrunched up happily. Bucky rubbed his foot against Steve’s thigh, and Steve’s entire chest warmed up. They spent half an hour sitting there, neither saying much. Bucky loved to watch the hustle and bustle that happened on the streets below them. Steve loved to watch Bucky’s eyelashes flutter, and his forehead scrunch up when he was confused.

Next, they dressed quickly, and Bucky lead them down onto the streets of Brooklyn. They had lunch at their diner. They sat across from one another in a booth, and held hands atop the table.

“I remember,” Bucky told him after several moments of silence. Bucky lived inside his head, mostly. He didn’t normally talk without prompting. “That your birthday was the same as the countries, or some strange shit like that.” Steve chuckled. “I mean, of course.” Bucky added.

“Yeah,” Steve nodded lamely.

“I wasn’t even surprised,” Bucky admits. “When I remembered, and then looked it up to be sure.” Steve chuckled softly. “And then, I was remembering a lot, all at once.” That happened, Steve knew. Something sparked a flood of memories, all surfacing at once. “I remember eating so much we hurled,”

“My fourteenth birthday.” Steve told him, a fond smile lighting up his features.

“And baking an apple pie, or something?”

“Your ma’s idea,” Steve supplied. “We were shit at baking, and cooking. We were thirteen.”

 

Hours later, they sat side by side on their couch. Steve had turned their record player on, and Ella Fitzgerald was streaming around the apartment. Bucky had a book in his lap, and Steve had a hand tangled in Bucky’s hair. The sun set outside, and Steve knew the fireworks would be starting within an hour or two. The last year, Steve had cuddled Bucky close to him, and played the music loudly. Bucky fell asleep before the fireworks had even begun.

When the sun no longer sent rays through their window, Bucky stood up.

“Where we going?” Steve asked, confusing filling his voice.

“You’ll see,” Bucky answered, an obvious smile in his own voice. He tugged Steve to his feet, and pulled him along behind him. They shut the apartment door behind them, and headed for the staircase.

They climbed several flights of stairs, and ended up on the roof of their apartment building. It was one of the tallest in the area, placing them above the rest of the Brooklyn skyline. The view was breathtaking.

There was a bench situated right at the edge of the building’s roof. There was a blanket thrown over the arm. Steve was suddenly overwhelmed.

“Buck,” he breathed, unable to say what he meant. There was a thank you in the back of his throat, an I love you, and an are-you-absolutely-sure.

“Sit with me?”

“Of course,”

While the past still felt like yesterday, the present felt like snapshots. Sometimes, Steve felt as if he was watching his life through the eyes of an outsider. Other times, he felt as if the seventy years weren’t quite that long. And when Steve was very lucky, like tonight, it really felt as if the long-ever-stretching-years of ice and pain hadn’t happened at all. And on those nights, Steve held Bucky a bit closer, and kissed his head a bit gentler. Together, the pair were unstoppable, Steve still believed that.

Great, big cracks of color lit up the sky. There were golden peony’s, blue diadems, brilliant willows, and the little red ones that shot up and screamed across the sky.

Bucky didn’t flinch. His blue eyes were wide, gazing up at the show in front of them.

“I don’t really remember these,” Bucky tells Steve. “Fireworks?”

“Yeah,” Steve nodded, chest heavy with something like happiness. “You loved ‘em.”

“I think I still do.”

Steve felt frozen in time; filled with a joy that felt heavier than the bittersweet melancholy. Bucky was smiling, and that made Steve’s chest tighter. Bucky was pointing out his favorites; Steve joined in. There was even a burst of red, white, and blue that mirrored the Captain America shield. Bucky shoved Steve’s shoulder, and burst into laughter. Everything was different, and yet nothing had changed at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. This was such a pleasure to write, and I feel very proud of it! I would love to hear from you! Please leave a comment.
> 
> I did a bit of research for this story, and would love to share a couple tidbits.  
> 1\. Search 'Coney Island 1940' on youtube to experience the Coney Island of Steve and Bucky's childhood.  
> 2\. The game ‘Twenty Questions’ didn’t come into popular play until the late 1940s. It became a popular radio show in 1946, and was played across the nation. I changed that a bit, as I thought it would be fun for the boys to play it. Actually, “The Van Deventer family had played the game for years at their home, long before they brought the game to radio, and they were so expert at it that they could often nail the answer after only six or seven questions. On one memorable show, Maguire succeeded in giving the correct answer (Brooklyn) without asking a single question. The studio audience was shown the answer in advance and Maguire based his answer on the audience's reaction; during the 1940s, New York radio studio audiences included many Brooklynites, and they cheered wildly whenever Brooklyn was mentioned in any context.” So, hey, that's pretty cool.  
> 3\. Nathan’s Hot Dog’s has had a hot dog eating contest on July 4th for nearly a century.  
> 4\. New York does have a spectacular firework show on July 4th, and has for a very long time.
> 
> Until next time, thank you for reading! Happy Steve Rogers Day!


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